


Left Behind

by Blue_Rive



Category: Story Thieves Series - James Riley
Genre: Breakout, Gen, Rated T for swearing, also there's other original characters, moira has minions okay and i named them all, moira is a badass, one of them is nb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18237776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Rive/pseuds/Blue_Rive
Summary: Moira Gonzales thought she could do it all. Any heist, any escape, any murder (although she usually tried to avoid that.) All she really needs her mom, who isn't gone. All Moira needs to do is be cool enough and good enough at crime to get her to realize she needs to come back.But now she's at the Baker Street School, a maximum security prison, and she suddenly has weird gaps in her memory she's trying to figure out. Moira might finally have found something she can't beat- until she gets a call from a voice that seems oddly familiar, even though she's never heard it before.(Cross-posted from Wattpad)





	1. The Worst Day Ever

Moira Gonzales was not having a good day. First, she’d found ten overflowing bags of gold in her closet. (That was not the bad part, just to make that clear. Moira was totally open to having tons of bags of gold appear in her closet at any time for no reason.) The bad part was her dad found out.

 

He showed up when she was heading out for school. She had been trying  _ really  _ hard to at least be slightly on the straight and narrow. Moira figured she deserved praise for not skipping like usual. But instead of properly appreciating her, her dad was looking at her with that “I’m very disappointed in you” face. Moira hated when he got like that.  _ If he cares about Mom so much, why does he keep telling me I have to move on? I  _ won’t.  _ Not if there’s even the slightest chance she’s still out there. _

 

“What did I do now?” she asked.

 

“Well, for starters, you got some kid caught by the police. It’s kind of fuzzy after that.”

 

_ Got some kid caught by the police?  _ Moira was pretty sure she hadn’t done that. And why would she? She couldn’t remember anyone especially annoying her. It could be part of an elaborate plan. But she would  _ remember  _ that. 

 

...wouldn’t she?

 

“Got some kid caught by the police?” she asked. “How is that a bad thing? I’m supporting law enforcement.”

 

“Well, after that, he and his friend escaped, and then there was that… stuff in the closet.”

 

Moira swore. She should’ve done something with all that gold.  _ Hey, get the kid caught to let him and his friend escape- that does sound like part of one of my plans. But why don’t I remember it? _

 

“It would’ve been a pretty big heist for you to get that much money, or some pretty notorious criminals you helped escape.”

 

“I don’t remember anything! Honest!” Moira said. And she  _ was  _ being honest. That was so weird. How could she pull off a jailbreak worth ten sacks of gold and not remember it?

 

Her dad sighed and got down on one knee. “Moira, I really love you. You know that. And I try to support you. But there is some point where I can’t just keep bailing you out of jail.”

 

“You don’t have to bail me out,” Moira protested. “I’m very clean. No evidence, nothing.”  _ Except this time. What did I  _ do?

 

“That’s not the point of this conversation. The point is-”

 

“You’re going to tell me to stop being a criminal and tell me to move on,” Moira said. “I’ve heard this over and over again, Dad. I’m  _ not  _ giving up on Mom.”

 

“Actually,” her dad said, “I think it’s time for a change for you. I can’t handle you anymore, Moira. I’m sorry.”

 

Moira dug her nails into her skin. 

 

_ What’s going on?...Mom already left. Are both my parents going to leave because of me? _

 

“There’s a place,” her dad said. “For helping kids like you.”

 

_ Juvie? No…  _ Moira felt like she knew where the conversation was going. And she didn’t like it. Her muscles tensed.

 

“The Baker Street School.”

 

_ The place all the teenagers were afraid of?  _ Moira should’ve brushed it off. She could escape. But bits and pieces were starting to come to her mind, jumbled up and faded like memories of dreams or a movie watched when she was eight. A towering, electrified fence. Dark hallways and scared kids. A safe. A basement cell. A wristwatch.

 

Moira broke and ran, grabbing her bag.  _ I’m not going back to the Baker Street School. Even if I don’t remember if I’ve ever been there. _

 

“Hey! Moira!” her dad called. Moira didn’t stop and look back. She knew how to run fast, how to take back alleys and side streets. She had haunts she could stay at and kids who could help her, and her bag was always packed for a heist. She knew how to live on the streets from the other criminals and petty thieves. She’d never have to go to the Baker Street School.

 

_ … _

 

_ I can’t leave Dad. _

 

Even if he was willing to let her go to the Baker Street School, even if he was too focused on stopping her from doing stunts and not focused enough on  _ why _ , he was still her dad, and she didn’t know if she wanted to spend her entire life on the run.

 

_ I’ll hang out for a few days, then come back when the hunt’s over and my dad misses me. _

 

He’d think she was gone forever. That’d make him sorry.

Moira rounded a bend, and found two police officers glaring at her in a dead end. She breathed in, coming to an abrupt stop. They weren’t police officers on second glance, but burly men wearing  _ Baker Street School  _ t-shirts. Men that had more methods of getting a girl to go to prison than ‘shoot it until it stops moving’ and probably couldn’t be defeated with usual tactics.

 

“It’s the end of the line for you, Moira Gonzales,” one of them said, like in every cop film ever. The other one moved behind her, cutting off her way of escape.

 

Moira rocked back and forth on her toes. “No it isn’t.”

 

She sprang up, kicking off the wall above one of the men’s heads to jump over the other and run. Her feet pounded on the asphalt as she ran, hearing their shouts fade into the distance.  _ I can’t think now. That’s what gets you caught.  _ Around that corner. Up those stairs. Jump. On the roof. Climb up the drainpipe. Get down. That might be one of the men. Slip by the side. Jump to the abandoned building. In the window.

 

The broken glass grazed Moira’s shoulder, making her wince. Inside were a couple kids she knew well and paid off. She’d be alright here, at least for the moment.

 

One of the kids- Saniyah- gave her a wave. Moira nodded at her and sunk to the floor.

 

“Who’s chasing you?” Saniyah’s brother Ellis asked. 

 

“Baker Street School,” Moira answered.

Everyone in the room tensed.

 

“You can’t run from the Baker Street School,” Saniyah said. “They’re OP as hell. If you’re going there, you’re going.”

 

“You’re just a pessimistic kitten,” Moira said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Doyle Holmes won’t know what hit him.” She winked, and Saniyah frowned.

 

“You’re underestimating him.”

 

“Pessimistic kitten,” Moira chided, then became more serious. “If you want, I can stay somewhere else to make you feel safer. Though I didn’t grab much money, but I have ten bags of gold at home-”

 

“Ten bags of  _ gold? _ ” Saniyah said. “Okay, I’m in.”

  
  
  


The others nodded.  _ Kids like these are so easy to pay off.  _ Moira would like a friend sometime, though. Someone who could help her on her heists and hang out with her at the park after curfew. Someone who she knew would be loyal, no matter how much money the other side offered. Someone who would never manipulate her.

 

_ Too bad there’s no one I know like that. _

 

“Actually, guys,” she said, “I have to go.”

 

“Why?” Ellis said. “You’ll probably get caught.”

 

“I need to talk to my dad.”

 

The others exchanged concerned glances. Most of Moira’s gang were not on the best terms with their parents.

 

“Why would you wanna do  _ that? _ ” a kid named Nim asked.

 

“He’s all I have left,” Moira explained simply. “Except my grandparents, and believe me, you don’t want to hang out with them.”

 

Nim laughed. “Okay, then, but don’t blame us when you get killed, and put that gold in your will.”

 

Moira nodded and hopped out the window.  _ Ellis has a point, but I can’t hide out forever, and who knows when my gang would turn on me. _

 

A few blocks away, she came face to face with another Baker Street School goon, and this time there was no way out. And that’s when everything really started to go to shit.

 


	2. The Safe

She'd got caught. _She'd got caught._ Moira reached into her bag for her Taser, but it wasn't there. She'd left her bag at her hangout so she could run faster.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. This would have never happened to Mom._

"Hey," she said. "What's up?"

The men moved closer.

"Not allowed to break character? You don't have to work for Doyle. You'd be great bouncers. Or, you could always work for me. That'd definitely help me look more intimidating." Moira winked.

No reaction, not even telling her to shut up. She was gonna have to fight to get out of this. And she wasn't _bad_ , definitely not. But she didn't like these odds.

One of the men backed her into a corner, coming right up against her. For guards who worked for Doyle, they seemed to fight a lot less professionally. Moira's heart started beating faster. Then he pulled out a gun. _Ah, there it is._

She jumped up, kicked his hand. _Grab the gun before it gets out of reach or one of them gets it._ She dove for it, sliding under one of their arms. _Crap, I'm going to have to use it. Oh well._

Safety off, point, and fire. She could do that.

Except she couldn't, because they got to the gun before she did. That was not part of the plan. She ducked away, and something hit her in the back. _I don't want to go back there_ was her last thought before everything went black.

***

When Moira woke up, she was at the Baker Street School, or some other dark cellblock. _Boarding school? No way, this is a prison._ At least, she was pretty sure most boarding schools didn't have sparsely furnished concrete rooms with bars on the front. Nim had a cousin who'd gone to a pretty shitty military boarding school, and he'd had a proper, comfortable room.

She had a watch on her wrist that she was pretty sure hadn't been there before ( _Danger-_ her brain flashed, but she didn't know why. It just seemed like a normal, albeit very unfashionable, wristwatch,) but she was in her normal clothes. _Right, most of the guards are male... that would've been awkward._ She kept a lot of stuff in her pockets, and she started to sort through, hoping something might help her get out. The cell had an electronic lock, not something she could pick, but she had a little thing for hacking to. Or, well, she used to have one. The guards had apparently taken all her stuff that could possibly help her escape.

A candy bar wrapper (no candy bar included, sadly), a pair of earbuds that _weren't_ configured to do anything interesting and weren't even good at being regular earbuds, and... a piece of paper covered in solutions to locks. 2314, left-right-left, "Reichenbach Falls", all presumably codes to enter in locks, and at the top was 'pull on pistol'. It was in her handwriting, but she didn't remember it. How was that possible?

One of the guards rapped on the bars, and Moira flinched. _God, I'm already scared of them? No way. I'm not scared of anything._ She straightened up and tried to look tough. "Yeah?"

The guard cleared his throat. Moira cracked her knuckles. "What is it?"

"Mr. Holmes will see you now."

"Ookay?" The door was still locked. "Um..."

The guard unlocked the door, almost embarrassed. He didn't put handcuffs on her or anything, which was pretty weird. Maybe he was distracted. He didn't seem that good at his job.

Just to see what would happen, Moira made a break for it. She made it out into the hall, filled with scared kids, most of them seeming the type she'd hire out. A couple kids stared at her running before jerking their heads away. Another grinned at her, but the boy next to her was frantically waving for Moira to go back.

_Why is he so scared?_

She found out when a giant jolt rushed through her, coming from the suspicious wristwatch. She crumpled to the ground, gasping hard from the shock. _Ow ow ow ow ow ow FUCK OW_ \-- The burning sting rushed through her, making it hard for her to think. _Guess- guess this is how Doyle keeps everyone in line, huh?_

Struggling to her feet, she managed to flip off the guard. " _Jerk._ "

The guard, unfazed, grabbed her arm and pulled her through the hallway. His hand was on the burns from the shock, and she tried to twist away into a more comfortable position, but another, less painful, shock, ran through her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

_No way. Moira Gonzales doesn't give up this fast._

She scanned the hallways, filing the information for a potential escape. Boring and concrete, no windows, little paths leading out to single cells, probably with kids in them. _I've got to get a mass breakout planned somehow. I don't want to just leave all these kids stuck here._

She thought of Saniyah and Ellis and Nim. She wasn't really friends with any of them, but thinking of them in the Baker Street School was enough to solidify her will. _Mass breakout. Soon as possible. And I don't care how many shocks I have to get to do it._

They reached an office, much more nicely furnished than any of the cells or classrooms. An inlaid wood desk was the main feature, and there was a fireplace with a pistol in a glass case over it. _Pull on pistol? Could that be it?_ Moira still didn't remember writing the code, or ever being in this office before.

_Seriously, why is everything so weird?_

There was a boy in the room, she realized, and kicked herself for not focusing. He was facing backwards in a swivel chair, and as the guard shoved Moira in ("Ow! Hands off the burns, jerk-") he started to turn around slowly, eerily.

He was wearing a mask. _His hair's the wrong color,_ Moira thought, but she didn't know why. It's not like she'd met him before, or even seen a picture. _Doyle Holmes, the urban legend. Saniyah said he exists, but she's the type to believe in conspiracy theories._

It was creepy, that mask. The shape reminded her of a murderer's ski mask, and the blank white was just freaky, like he didn't have a face. _How is this the "good guy" in the situation? He's in a_ supervillan costume _._

"Ah," Doyle said. "Moira Gonzales. I've been watching you, you know. Waiting until you might present a bit of a threat."

Moira scoffed. "The smart guy would get me _before_ I could be threatening. Not that I'm saying you should change what you're doing. Makes it easier for me to beat you."

Another shock. This time, Moira was expecting it, but it still _hurt._ All the burns were adding up. _At least I'll have a cool scar when I get out of this._ Honestly, though, a touch on the wrist right now would hurt as bad as another shock.

_Can I take the wristwatch off?_

"I wouldn't advise that," Doyle said, in a weird, fake sounding deep voice. _Dork. I bet his voice sounds like a chipmunk or something in real life._

"Yo, dude, did you just read my mind? That's so fricking OP."

"Just deductive reasoning," Doyle bragged.

Moira raised an eyebrow. _This guy's so pretentious. It doesn't sound like he even knows what deductive means. It's like, taking away the stuff that doesn't work until you get the right answer. That doesn't- that's not even the best type of reasoning. Surely it's better if you just cut to the chase?_

It was easier to think those things when she didn't have to say them aloud. She was trapped, and Doyle had won. That was something she _never_ let happen. Something had happened, and her life had gone wrong.

And Doyle was just shoving salt in the wound, naming off all the "superb" security measures that would prevent a breakout.

Moira narrowed her eyes. _You don't even have an electronic lock on your door._

From what he was describing, a breakout was impossible, and a breakin would be next to that. But Moira was already inside.

_Pull on pistol, 2314, left-right-left, Reichenbach Falls, 2-0-0, 0-1-1-1-1-0-0-0..._

Doyle waved for the guard to escort Moira out. Moira went, smiling, just a bit.

She'd been here before. She knew that now. She didn't know how she knew that, but it didn't matter. What it meant was that she had insider information.

It was weird. Somehow, she felt the answer to everything that had happened was in that safe.

That's what detectives did. They found answers. Why should Doyle keep them? Moira _definitely_ needed them more. So, she'd take them. Tomorrow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's art on Wattpad by the way! I drew a cover and everything  
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/175674613-story-thieves-left-behind


	3. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> moira is angsty and makes a very murdery friend

She’d said tomorrow, but it’d been two weeks. Two weeks of shocks, “lessons” that weren’t about math, science, or language arts, and spending the few minutes of free time and meal time she had in her cell, unable to talk to the other prisoners. Moira considered doing something really bad, that’d make Doyle call her to his office. Break the button. Knock him out. Bust the safe. Set off the fire alarm or something to open up the cell doors. She’d pulled off stuff like that before.

 

Moira looked down at the ever-expanding burn mark on her arm under the wristwatch, that hurt whenever she as much touched her finger against something. Somehow, she couldn’t stomach getting another burn. She trembled, just a little.

 

_ Has Doyle broke me? Have I really sunk that far?  _

 

_ This would have never happened to Mom. I have to show her I can be as good as she was. Then she’ll come back. _

 

Moira straightened up from her cot (cot, shelf, bathroom, dark grey walls, bars. Whoever designed this place was obviously a _great_ interior designer.) 

 

She raised her chin and clutched her hands in fists, biting her lip to avoid crying out at the pain shooting through her burns.  _ Doyle hasn’t seen the last of me. I’m never gonna follow the rules of this stupid school. _

 

The plan was a good one, but incomplete. She could think of any number of things that could get her into Doyle’s office, albeit with a brawny guard behind her. From there, his computer system controlled everything. The code was supposed to be really hard, but forcing Doyle to do it on the other hand- Moira smiled, just a bit, at the thought of revenge.

 

_ It’s just the best way to do it. But I for one am going to see if there’s a recording function on WATSON so I can play back Doyle’s screams later.  _

 

The problem with that was there was security cameras all around the office, and Moira would be rushed by guards probably the moment she threw a punch at Doyle. Maybe his ranting about the security system might actually help- she thought she remembered something about the floors getting electrified

 

Then, how was she going to get out? She had to get the kids attending in the loop somehow, but that was hard when they all seemed cowed by a tap and there wasn’t any time where Moira could get alone with them. Class was the only time they were together- doing community service, watching filmstrips, listening to lectures on obedience- but unlike at the public school she’d went to back home (that, while it sucked, at least wasn’t a  _ literal prison _ ), none of the kids dared to talk. Moira could kind of get why. She’d tried to start a conversation before, and, well… 

 

Her eyes flicked to her burns. Best not to think about that when she was trying to be confident. 

 

_ Wait. _ She was in a cellblock, not a cell. The walls were soundproof and there was a fair amount of distance between them, but it wasn’t like she was in solitary. Maybe if she yelled really loud- nah, that’d get her sent to Doyle’s office. Actually, that was the goal, wasn’t it? 

 

Moira grinned. There was still plotting to do, but this plan was starting to come together. Moira was proud of her plots, and this one was one of her best, considering the Baker Street School had some of the most comprehensive security in America and she was breaking in as a prisoner with almost no advantages.

 

What hadn’t come together, though, was her memory. She still didn’t remember writing the list. She remembered the Baker Street School, though, but faintly. And that made  _ less  _ sense, because if she’d been there before, wouldn’t Doyle remember it and bring it up?

 

A thought struck her. She’d been tuning out Doyle while he ranted, but what if he actually did know something important, and he’d mentioned it in passing by accident?  _ Goddamnit.  _ Even if he didn’t know anything, why hadn’t she realized a  _ lecture on the security system  _ would be helpful?  

 

Well. She’d been distracted. She looked down at her burns again, a twitch that didn’t seem to go away no matter how much confidence she tried to muster. 

 

_ Okay. I gotta do this. _

 

Tapping her hand nervously on the wall, Moira began to plot. 

 

***

Thirty minutes later, she leaned out through the latticed bars of her cell. “Hey! Yeah, you guys!”

 

She thought she heard someone yell  _ “What? _ ”. Good. They could hear her. 

 

“Breakout! Soon! I’ve got a plan!”

 

The silence felt skeptical.

 

“Other people have tried to get out before,” said a hard-to-hear voice.

 

“Ah, but have those people already broken in once?” (Moira wasn’t sure that was true, but it might be, and she had to impress that kid.) “And gotten ten sacks of pure 24-carat gold for it?” (Again, she had no idea if the gold was pure or what carat it was, just that it was real).

 

“Wow,” the kid said, “you’re super good at lying.” The sarcasm didn’t manage to make it through the fact they were yelling at the top of their lungs, but Moira guessed from the words.

 

_ Huh. This one has spunk. Good to know not everyone’s been totally cowed by the Baker Street School.  _

 

“I’m not,” Moira said. “Don’t you know who I am?”

 

“Oh, great, a self-important small-time thief who thinks they’re better than they are,” the kid said dryly.

 

“Shut up,” Moira said. Why did the one kid who’d maybe work with her have to be like  _ this _ ? “Look, the guards will be here soon, and then I’ve got to start my plan, so-”

 

The door opened, and Moira spun around. 

 

“Two troublemakers trying to make a plan?” one of the guards said. Ah, so they could speak! “I think you two are going to get a nice dose of electricity, and then go to solitary.”

 

They weren’t gonna take them to Doyle’s office?  _ Shoot. Time for reverse-reverse psychology. _

 

“No!” Moira complained, loud and badly unrealistic. “Please no, not solitary!”

 

She turned to face the other, that she could see now, and gave her a thumbs-up and a wink. 

 

“Shock me all you want, just not solitary!” she yelled again. 

 

One of the guards turned to the other, who shrugged. “Obviously a trick, sir. We should take them to the office.”

 

The first guard looked uncomfortable. “Hurting kids… this isn’t what I signed up for,”.

 

_ Right thought, wrong time. Ugh. Usually these plans go off without a hitch.  _

 

“It’s  _ producture _ ,” said the other guard. The first one sighed, then grabbed Moira by the arm. The other kid was a girl Moira knew, she could see now. Her name was… April? Ariel? Something like that. Moira referred people to her sometimes. She did assassinations, and Moira always got nervous around her.  _ Seriously, worst ally.  _

 

They were dragged to Doyle’s office, and Moira could barely keep herself from grinning. She was scared, true, but she could deal with it now she had a plan.

 

The guard shoved her in, and the door locked behind her. Moira had another one of those vague flashes of deja vu- this one was weirder, and stronger somehow- the memory of a...wand? Yeah. The boy in the question mark mask was pointing a wand at her, and reciting something… Moira shook her head to clear it. Now was not the time to get lost in her mind.

 

“So,” Doyle said, “let’s see, what would a good punishment be? We can’t have criminals making plans, you see. It messes up the rehabilitation, having that bit of hope.”

 

His hand crept towards a bright red button on his desk, and Moira flinched. The thought of being shocked overrode her carefully laid plans for a moment, and for a second she let go of the confident facade she’d been putting on- the girl Avery (that was her name!) slapped her and yelled “Snap out of it!” and Moira charged.


	4. The File

Moira ran at Doyle and grabbed the button, smashing it before he or the guards could react. The bracelets fell off of her and Avery’s arms, and Moira gasped with relief, feeling the tight-cinched weight finally disappear. The guards rushed her and Avery, but the fear she’d felt was dissipating with the satisfaction of a plan going right. Moira ducked and weaved, almost giggling, laughing oddly and breath-filled. 

 

She tossed the bracelet to Avery. “Try to get Doyle to unlock the security system and electrify the floors- maybe see if you can get the bracelet working again to use on him. I’ll deal with the guards, and open up the safe- you can have any money in there, if you want.” 

 

Normally, she would have felt at least  _ some  _ unease at letting the assassin be in charge of torturing someone, but honestly? She didn’t give a damn. Doyle deserved whatever he got. From the wolfish grin that spread across Avery’s face, she thought so too. 

 

_ Okay. Now I gotta deal with the guards.  _ Moira’s previous encounter with them near Ellis and Nim’s place hadn’t exactly gone well, but at least this time she had the element of surprise. The guard brought a Taser from a sheath on their belt and made for her- Moira’s smile widened. She decked the guard in the stomach and grabbed it, the weight feeling natural in her hands. 

 

“You plague-ridden locusts,” Doyle said, “How dare you? You are still in  _ my  _ prison. Guards-”

 

Avery punched him in the mouth. He shut up. 

 

Moira shot her a grin and a wink, then ducked a guard’s fist. They were going for straight-up fighting this time, looked like.

 

She did an excessively dramatic spin-kick, then drove her Taser into a guard’s back, causing him to drop to the floor. One of them lunged for Avery, but Moira grappled him and pulled him back- like dragging a sack of bricks.  _ I can’t get out of here by force-- _

 

“Avery!” she yelled. “Any progress?” 

 

Avery started to respond, but Doyle interjected, gritting out “ _ Not yet.” _

 

He tried to pull away from her, eyes darting towards the window. Avery grabbed his collar and yanked him back down. “I just wish I could shock you with electricity,” she said. “Give you a taste of your own medicine.” She flipped the bracelet.

 

Moira slammed a guard into the wall, laughing a bit, then ducked and weaved through the other’s attacks. Finally- finally- she was back in her element. She pulled the paper out of her pocket, though she didn’t really need it. She’d basically memorized everything.

 

She pushed off a guard’s shoulder and grabbed onto the glass case labeled ‘THIRD ACT’, tugging on it to get it off and pulling on the gun. Unfortunately, she didn’t pull it all the way off so she could use it, which would have been sweet, but the group of monitors began moving aside, revealing an overly complicated safe with too many combination locks. 

 

“How did you-” Doyle started, but then Avery shoved him aside. 

 

“Shut up. But yeah, how did you do that?”

 

Moira winked at her. “All part of the plan, Avery. I don’t want to keep calling you Avery. Too boring. Danger Badger! That works.”

 

Avery raised one dark eyebrow. Moira had always wanted to be able to do that. 

 

“DB,” Moira decided. “It’s perfect.”

 

“This is the most moronic conversation I’ve ever heard,” Doyle muttered.

 

Moira hit him and moved to mess with the safe locks, briskly entering the various codes then tugging hard at the door. 

 

It swung open slowly, and Moira caught her breath.  _ Answers.  _

 

She didn’t know what she was expecting. Maybe gold. Gold was cool. She could use some more gold, since her dad had donated hers to charity or something.

 

Instead, there was a file. Written neatly on it in felt-tipped marker were the words, “The Case of My Missing Memories and Owen Conners”.

 

In the time it took to grab the file and dodge a guard, then break their walkie-talkie when they tried to call for backup, Moira had realized three things.

 

  1. Doyle didn’t remember anything either,
  2. The name Owen Conners sounded familiar,
  3. She _needed_ to read the file.



“Shit,” Avery muttered. “I think I broke him.”

 

Doyle was lying unconscious on the keyboard. An alarm started blaring.

 

“What the hell, DB?” Moira yelled, waving the file at her. 

 

Avery shrugged eloquently. “He deserved it.”

 

“Yeah, but we needed him to operate the security system!”

 

“It’s not all bad. He opened the window- I think he was going to try to get out that way.”

 

The hairs on the back of Moira’s neck prickled. She twisted to find a guard holding a gun to her neck.

 

“Not another move, Gonzalez.”

 

“Yeah,” Moira said, gesturing vaguely, “This has been fun, but I think I’m gonna go now. See you.”

 

She winked and jumped out the window, kicking it open as she went.

 

Avery rolled her eyes. “Well, there she goes. Not waiting for me to finish my explanation. Wonderful.”

 

She pushed a button, and the floor became a mess of currents, knocking all the remaining guards out. “Oh,  _ nice. _ ”

 

\----

 

Moira landed crouched on the ground. The prison block was surrounded by cement with long grass and weeds growing up in all the cracks, and tall fences. She’d managed to keep a hold on the file, and she opened it up to start looking through the pages.  _ Goddamnit-  _ It was getting too dark to make out the words. She moved to a patch of moonlight to start reading.

 

\----

 

“Do your laundry?” Avery said incredulously. “What sort of person programs their supercomputer to do the laundry?”

 

\----

 

The first page had, neatly typewritten (wow, impressive. Using a typewriter is hard,) what looked like a case summary. 

 

_ I woke up a month ago, lying on my desk with a pounding headache and no memory of the last few weeks. Or, rather, I have memories, but none of them explained what was going on. My safe was open, but nothing seemed to be missing. In fact, there was a phone number tucked inside with the words “Owen Conners” written below it in my extremely neat handwriting. I called it- from an untraceable phone of course- but no one picked up. I believe I heard roars of some primeval beast in the background. This was obviously concerning. _

 

_ That failing, I attempted to find this Owen Conners. I met up with his distraught mother, who said that Owen Conners was in fact wanted for burning down her library. This was ridiculous, of course, for libraries belong to the state. However, I talked to the police, and they said Conners had committed the arson, and-- with a confused look -- that I had participated in the search to hunt him down. Also, that he was a missing person, and had not been seen since I woke up with my memory missing. _

 

_ Deducing those two situations were related, I decided to put the case files together.  _

 

Even the fact Doyle’s insufferable personality had apparently carried over to his writing couldn’t dim Moira’s spirit, and she flipped to the next page. This one had what must have been Owen’s phone number, written out in bold type. Underneath were more details- his voicemail box message, written out, and a summary of what had happened when Doyle called it. 

 

_ I could call it. Maybe he’d pick up!  _ That sounded more appealing than looking through the rest of the file, but Moira skimmed it anyway. There was a little note about her-  _ seemed familiar-  _ and other than that it was all about the Owen kid. Doyle had been basically scanning the world for him. 

 

_ He’s important, then. That, or Doyle has a crush.  _

 

Moira giggled to herself.  _ Nah, he’s probably just as desperate for answers as I am. I could get to a phone booth and call the number-- _

 

__ She straightened up and glared at the gate. “So are you going to open for me now, or are you going to be rude and stay closed?” 

 

Like a charm, the gates swung open.

 

“...huh.” 

 

Avery leaned out of the window. “Go do whatever the hell you’re trying to do with that file. I’m letting everyone out.”

 

Moira grinned at her. “Thanks! Love you, DB!”

 

Avery rolled her eyes. “What is it with the nickname?” 

 

Moira winked and gathered up her file. “Shush. You know you love me too.”

 

She turned and ran out of the gates, feet pounding on the concrete. 

 

“See you later, sucker,” she said to the Baker Street School at large. If only it wasn’t stone so she could set it on fire. 

 

\----

 

She got some weird looks as she ran through town. Well, she was in a jumpsuit. Fashion gurus probably hated her. She was gonna make black and white stripes the next big thing.

An old woman frowned at her. Moira guessed at what she was thinking-  _ what the hell is that (amazing, talented, and gifted,) child doing?  _

 

Moira stole her wallet and made for a pay phone. 

 

She found one surprisingly quickly, but it took her a minute to figure out how to use it.  _ I kinda thought these only existed in, like, Superman comics. Okay. I think it’s working.  _

 

She dialed in the number, reading it off of the file. “...8725, and done!”

 

The phone on the other end began to ring. Moira waited with baited breath through the first, second, and third rings. Just when she thought no one was going to pick up, someone answered.

 

“Who’s this and how did you reach me?”  said an achingly familiar voice. 

 

“I’m Moira Gonzalez. Do I know you?”

 

The person on the other end went quiet. 

 

“Hello?”

  
“Uh. Yeah. Sorry. We’ve met. I’m  _ Owen  _ Conners. The better one. Let’s start over.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? leaving a fanfiction on a cliffhanger for like 4 months and then finally updating it only to end on another cliffhanger? more likely than you think
> 
> anyway aaaay it's been forever what's shaking  
> please leave a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters are supposed to come out once a month, but probably won't.


End file.
